


Let Them See

by merthurxmalec



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Arthur has magic, M/M, Magic Reveal, Merlin Memory Month
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-03
Updated: 2018-03-03
Packaged: 2019-03-26 13:48:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13859031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merthurxmalec/pseuds/merthurxmalec
Summary: For Merlin Memory Month 2018Day 1, Path I and III"Being different is nothing to be afraid of."





	Let Them See

**Author's Note:**

> I'm like 2 days late but this is my contribution to Merlin Memory Month!
> 
> This is my first fic and un-beta'ed so all mistakes are my own. I just wanted to write about my boys being in love and let Merlin and Arthur appreciate each other because they are dorks in love.

Arthur Pendragon was four years old when his eyes had shone molten gold, causing the goblet in his nursemaid's hands to escape her grasp and clatter on the floor. Arthur's nursemaid, Mia, had stared at Arthur in shock, and he had promptly burst into tears. Vaguely, in the back of his head, Arthur could hear his father's voice scolding him. " _Future kings don't cry, boy"_ the voice said, and Arthur mentally told the voice to  _shut up_ because he was scared, okay?

Mia had run up to him, then, and had pulled him into a hug. She never did that, Arthur remembered thinking. It wasn't proper for a servant to hug the prince, but Arthur didn't mind. It was the first time someone had given him a hug; it was very warm. 

"You mustn't tell anyone," Mia had said desperately. "You must be very careful. No one must know, not even your father." Arthur remembered thinking that lying to the King was very bad, but he nodded nonetheless. 

Arthur was five years old when his nursemaid stopped turning up to dress Arthur. His father said Arthur was too old for a nursemaid, that he shall have a manservant now, like a proper prince. Afterwards, though, Arthur heard the knights talk about _"sweet Mia, turning out to be a filthy sorcerer."_

_Filthy sorcerer._

Filthy sorcerer. 

Arthur cried in bed again that night. 

Arthur was six years old when Uther decided he was old enough to witness his first execution. It was a sorcerer, a man who looked small and frail and scared. Arthur wanted to say something, do something, but Mia's words still rang in his ears. 

 _No one must ever know,_ she had said, so Arthur closed his eyes and flinched away as the axe landed on the man's neck and tried his best to banish the agonising scream from his mind late at night, when his dreams replaced the man's face with his own. 

Arthur was twenty years old when he met Merlin, insolent and big eared and Arthur's friend in every way that mattered. He had wondered, many times, whether to tell Merlin his secret but the fear in Merlin's eyes, wild and unknown, whenever they fought a sorcerer prevented the words from ever leaving Arthur's mouth. The words were a knife, a sword that would pierce through the carefully constructed friendship Arthur and Merlin shared, pure and innocent and full of love, and turn it into something dark, something fearful. No, Arthur may be strong enough to absorb his father's blind hatred for himself and his kind, but Merlin's hatred he would never, ever be able to bear. Not now, not ever. And so Arthur kept it a secret, kept the walls around his heart so high that Merlin was unable to break it down, no matter how much he tried. He knew Merlin hated it, that Merlin felt that they weren't friends, could never be friends. He tried to convince Merlin that Merlin meant nothing to him, although that couldn't be further from the truth. Merlin was the sun on a cloudless day, the rain after a drought. Merlin was that blue orb in the cave, the beacon of hope that convinced him that there  _will_ be better days, a better life. Merlin was the man who made Arthur's magic _sing,_ who, for the first time in lifetime, make Arthur's magic seem like less of a burden and more like something beautiful, something to be cherished. But Arthur kept all that to himself, because Merlin's companionship was worth more to Arthur than anything else, and what is a secret kept if it gives him Merlin in return? 

So he kept quiet, because  _no one must ever know._

Arthur was twenty five years old when the bandit attack happened, the reflection of his gold eyes seemingly being reflected on every surface of The Valley of the Fallen Kings as the bandits collapsed where they stood.  _"Nothing good ever happens in the Valley of the Fallen Kings"_ Merlin had said, and at that moment Arthur could not agree more, because _this, right here_ , Arthur thought, _is where I lose my best friend._

But then Merlin's body crashed with his own as Merlin engulfed him in a hug and Arthur let out a sigh of relief. 

"Please don't hate me," Arthur mumbled into Merlin's shoulder, his voice betraying years of pain. 

"Why would I ever hate you?" Merlin asked in disbelief. 

"Because I am different," Arthur said, his eyes downcast with the shame that had been building up inside of him for years. 

Merlin lifted Arthur's chin, raising Arthur's eyes to meet his own. 

"Being different is nothing to be afraid of," Merlin said, and Arthur saw the brilliant gold of Merlin's eyes reflected in his own. 

Arthur was thirty years old when he stood in the battlements of Camelot, his sorcerer, his consort and his love standing close beside him, their hands touching as they stood there silently, watching the kids as they made figures out of smoke, laughing as they raced their magical dragons against each other. 

This, this was the golden age of Albion: the age in which magic prospered, in which the land sang for the King she loved so much. And as Arthur's fingers laced with Merlin's he remembered Mia's words from a lifetime ago. 

 _"No one must ever know,"_ she had said. 

 _No,_ Arthur thought.  _Let_ _them all see._


End file.
